Ramsey's Reluctant Bride
by SomethingLikeAStar
Summary: This is a canon of Julie Garwood's Ransom, a book I adored but for Ramsey and Bridgid's abbreviated ending. In particular, it fleshes out the romance between Ramsey Sinclair and Bridgid KirkConnell. I wrote an interior scene for them as well as a different ending as I thought was their due. I hope you like it.
1. Chapter 1

**Scene intended to be inserted near page 407 of Julie Garwood's _Ransom._ She owns all rights to the original story and characters.**

"Bridgid?"

She whirled around at the sound of her name. That anyone should find her in his room. That _he_ should find her in his room.

"My most humble apologies, Laird," Bridgid said, bowing low. "No one but you should be in your room."

"Yes. And, those who seek to serve me at my request." Ramsey continually glanced at her as he quickly surveyed the room. "What do you here?" _And where is Marion?_

Bridgid stood now with her head turned down, unable to meet his eyes. The topic upon her tongue was most embarrassing. She wished terribly that she could shrink into a pebble and fall away into one of the cracks on the floor.

Ramsey took a step towards her. "Bridgid?"

"I have saved you, Laird, from a most delicate and duplicitous situation," Bridgid finally managed to croak out. "And now that it is over, with your permission, I shall take my leave." Without looking at him, she strode to the door.

"You do not have my permission to leave," he said in exasperation, as she was lifting the latch on the door.

"I beg your pardon," Bridgid asked the pained wood of the door. She was frozen in her need to escape.

Ramsey moved quickly to place his hand upon the door, not allowing her to open it. "If you have a care for your reputation, I beg you, consider using some discretion when leaving this room."

Bridgid stepped away from the door as if having been stung. In truth, she had only considered escape and not the possibility of being seen. Trapped in her own particular brand of purgatory, she stood peering determinedly at the floor.

Ramsey locked the door and crossed the room to sit in one of two chairs placed before a roaring fire. Bridgid KirkConnell should not be in his room. He considered her presence, her obvious embarrassment. Clearly his bedmate had fled, no doubt a result of Bridgid somehow. She should not be in his room, aye. But, she was. Spiriting her away now or a few moments from now would surely make little difference. He determined to have some fun, as fun of an entirely different sort was eluding him tonight.

"Is there something particularly entertaining about my floor," Ramsey asked, unable to keep the chuckle out of his voice.

Bridgid's head bowed, her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer, she scuffed one of her shoes along the cold floor. "It is lovely…and brown…and sturdy. 'Tis a good floor, Laird."

"Uh-hmm," he responded in return, more than a little incredulous at her continuing discomfort. Ramsey sat forward in his chair as he removed his sword. "Can you explain your presence in my room, Bridgid?" _Let us be to the heart of the matter_.

"Yes, Laird."

"And," he asked, when she refused to elaborate.

"As I said," she stumbled on, "I have saved you—"

"Yes, from 'a most delicate and duplicitous situation,' he interrupted. "Can you not expand on this?" He waved a hand in a circular motion in the air. "I would know more."

"Well, you see—"

"Can you not look at me when addressing me, Bridgid? I grow tired of this timidity you show. We both know it to be contrived."

Bridgid's head jerked up as she suddenly flashed daggers into him. Ramsey smiled. Finally.

"Come, sit with me while we ferret out the truth."

She stood ramrod straight, clinging to her place in the room.

"Come," he insisted, as he gestured her over to him, "you are perfectly safe with me."

Bridgid knew this to be true. Ramsey demonstrated little regard for her beyond their periodic meetings to discuss yet another marriage proposal. He thought her a menace, that she should be able to determine her husband, that she should _love _the man. He found her annoying. Still, in this moment of her most extreme discomfort, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Perturbed at this, she sashayed over to him and flounced down into the chair in front of him. However she felt, she would _act_ sure-hearted.

"The widow Marion was here."

He said nothing.

"She was indisposed."

No reaction.

"And, in your bed," Bridgid's voice rose with each pronouncement, her words were clipped and raw as she spit them at him.

Silence reigned for a moment.

"And, this distressed you," he finally deigned to ask. He enjoyed her outrage. In all honesty he enjoyed her…in his room…alone with him.

"Laird, I assure you, she had nothing but the most…" Her voice trailed off along with her courage. His eyebrows rose as he stared into her eyes, waiting. "She had most impure intentions. I could not see you dishonored in that way." Again, her eyes floated downward, this time to her lap.

Her naïveté struck him, as did her caring heart.

"I had no idea you cared so much about preserving my honor."

She stared at him, struck and confused. "Laird, you insult me when you even suggest otherwise. I am, as you, a Sinclair. I care about this clan and its laird."

Her vehemence was unsettling. She cared about him. Would she feel differently once she knew?

"Bridgid…_how can I tell her?_…I asked Marion to warm my bed. You found her here at my request," Ramsey finally said.

As if she had been physically struck by the truth, Bridgid shrunk back into the chair as far as she could. Her body, indeed her body language, was wounded. Ramsey knew it. He leaned into the space she had just vacated and grabbed one of her hands, looking to make eye contact but she refused him even that.

"You are innocent to these things, as you should be…"

Bridgid wiped at the unruly tears determined to fall and shook her head to negate what, she knew not. _I _am_ innocent to these things! _Ah, but the truth was there in the furious shake of her head. She did not want to be, not with him.

"…and before our relationship suddenly changes, I shall make certain that you continue to be." But, his hand that was once in hers was now resting on her lap. It seared them both.

Ramsey stood abruptly and fairly flew to the door.

"Stay where you are," he said. "Do not make a sound."

Bridgid nodded in answer, her only response to the now-vacated chair in front of her.

Ramsey opened the door and peered into the hallway. No one appeared to be about. He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

Bridgid turned to see herself alone in his room.

Ramsey explored the back stairway and the path outside of the keep that led out to the servant's quarters. Everything appeared to be deserted and quiet. He quickly returned to his room.

The door suddenly opened again.

"Bridgid, you must leave, now." She stood and hurried to the door in polite obedience.

Without a thought, Ramsey clasped Bridgid's head in his hands. He wanted to kiss her. But, when he saw the tears in her eyes, he let go. "I would have you leave as you came."

And she did…but she didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alternate ending intended to begin on page 540 of Julie Garwood's _Ransom._ She owns all rights to the original story and characters.**

"Why did you kiss me?"

"I wanted to," he answered, his voice as smooth as velvet.

"Were you…Was it…a farewell kiss? Were you saying good-bye?"

He laughed. "No," he answered. "You're going home with me."

"I'm staying here. I'm going to marry an Englishman."

"The hell you are," he roared, and he was more stunned than she was by his burst of temper. No woman had ever been able to get that kind of reaction from him, but the thought of his Bridgid with any other man, an Englishman no less, enraged him.

"Baron Chapman," Ramsey fairly screamed for the old man's attentions, his long-standing reputation for diplomacy was swiftly abandoning him. He could only be deferential to this obstinate little whip of a girl and her elderly helpmate so much. "Where are Bridgid's things?"

Ramsey took her by an unwilling hand and dragged her from the home. She tugged in earnest, trying to extricate herself from him, to no avail. His grip was as strong as his determination.

Baron Chapman peered out an upstairs window at the pair struggling to assert their wishes on each other. He waved to the Highland laird. "Her things are already tied to her horse, Laird Sinclair."

"Thank you, sir, for your kind hospitality of my clanswoman. But, she has overstayed her welcome."

"Uncle Morgan," she called out to him, "I am not yet ready to leave. You have suddenly become very important to me."

"As you have to me, my dear girl," he called out as he waved good-bye to her. She would get no more help from the old man.

Ramsey finally stopped pulling on her and let go when they were beside their horses. He went to lift Bridgid on her horse, but she darted away from him shaking her head. He exhaled loudly and searched for another tack.

"There has been a request for your hand in marriage."

"Is that why you want to take me home? To marry me off to a man I don't love? Who is he," she demanded, emotionally spent now and uncaring that tears were streaming down her face.

He started toward her.

"Don't you dare kiss me again," she ordered. "I can't think when you…Just don't," she stammered. "And as for the offer, I decline."

"You can't decline until you know who he is," he reasoned.

"All right. Tell me his name, and then I'll decline. You're going to praise him first though, aren't you? That's what you always do to try to get me to agree," she ended, and even she could hear the heartbreak in her voice.

"No, I'm not going to praise him. He's riddled with flaws."

She turned to him then, suddenly interested. "He is?"

He slowly nodded. "I have it on good authority that he's stupid and arrogant and obstinate, or at least he was until he realized what a fool he has been."

"But, that's what I said about…you."

Ramsey nodded. "Will you marry me, Bridgid?"

She stared awestruck at the man and the words she had waited for for so long.

"No, Laird. I know of your obligation to Meggan and the MacPhersons. You are kind. But, I cannot accept." She tried to walk back into the house.

"Damn it, Bridgid, there are no obligations. Get…Where are you going?…Get back here." He motioned for his soldiers to get on their horses. "Bridgid! We are to home. Now! Whatever else I am to you, I am your laird. Have you forgotten your obligation to obey me?"

She stopped in her tracks. She did have an obligation to obey him. But, she determined, she was no longer obligated in her heart to love him. She would follow…for now. She gritted her teeth, frustrated. But, somehow, she would get away, far away from Ramsey Sinclair.

She returned to him, nodded in meek humility, and climbed atop her horse.

Sinclair and his clansmen rode hard for the border. Ramsey was determined not to sleep another night on English soil. His soldiers could keep up. And, Bridgid, he noticed, was so angry with him that, even if she needed to, she would never deign to ask him to stop. Thus, when they stopped for the night, they were in the Scottish lowlands and several hours hard ride from Baron Chapman's holding. She would be his. He was sure of it. The closer they got to his home, the closer he got to her.

They made camp and a fire was built as Bridgid wandered to a lake to clean up and be alone.

"The arrogant cur," she hissed as she walked off her soreness. "The obstinate whoreson," she continued nurturing her wounded heart and her anger. "He thinks to take me and place me where he will. Out of my mother's home, in the servant's quarters, as his wife, under his heel. No! I am not some meek girl who would swoon at his attention, his lovely eyes, his beautiful dimples. No! I must be far, far away from him to gain any proper perspective."

"Bridgid!" She heard heavy footfalls coming ever closer and knew it would only dare to be one person.

"Laird, I am indisposed. I beg you leave me be."

He cleared his throat, choking down a chuckle. "Come now to eat. You need your strength for the journey ahead."

"Can it not wait," she called. "I must have some privacy. I desperately need my bath and I am almost finished. I urge you to understand."

Ramsey was hiding in the trees not ten feet away from her and could clearly see she was neither indisposed nor bathing. Frustrated at his sudden need to see her and be near her, he decided to let her have her time. He would enforce discipline at all times. Even, if necessary, within himself.

"As you will, then," he called out and returned to camp.

A long time later Bridgid returned to the camp. Her hair was damp and she smelled of roses. She appeared to be in high spirits, restored. Ramsey indicated the spot next to him and Bridgid sat down upon the plaid before the fire. He handed her some cheese and some bread as he sipped some wine from a leather flask and then handed it to her.

"I have informed the men of our happy decision to marry." Bridgid choked as she struggled to swallow.

Ramsey slapped her back gently. "Slow down, my sweet, I beg you, or your delight will be misinterpreted as intemperance." She covered her mouth as she coughed; a thinly veiled glare pierced him where he sat.

"Congratulations, milady," said Proster. "It will be a joyous celebration. You will make us very proud.

"Aye," Ker and Alan confirmed, "we could not ask for a better Lady Sinclair than you, lass.

"Lady," Proster was quick to correct, "she is your lady and you will henceforth treat her as such."

"No, I beg you, there is no need for such formality," she quickly implored. Ramsey was, as always, enjoying her discomfort. "You have known me as Bridgid and you shall always know me as simply Bridgid."

Confused, Proster, Ker, and Alan turned to their laird. "Is that the way of it in the Sinclair clan? It has never been so in the MacPhersons."

"It has never been and never will be in the Sinclairs. She is your lady," Ramsey replied.

Bridgid's vehement denial of this entire conversation was burning her throat. Yet, reason stayed her. If she sought to escape on this very night, she would have to assure Ramsey she was of a different mind altogether. She would have to literally lull him into a false sense of security.

She had formed her plan as she bathed. She needed time to bathe and eat and rest. Ramsey and his loyal men needed time to fall deeply asleep. All she carried with her would already be strapped to her horse's back. She needed merely to lead it slowly, painstakingly, and, at the utmost, quietly away from the sleeping camp. When they awoke, she would be long gone. Hopefully, she could remember the locations of the kind Englishmen who had helped her and Gillian along their way. Surely, they would come to her aid. At least she hoped they would.

"It is time to go to sleep." Ramsey was jerking her from her plans. He stood and motioned toward a makeshift tent. "You will sleep there." She nodded, realizing her tired senses were strained by exhaustion much more than she thought.

She wandered over and, nodding her kind goodnights to the men, slipped into the tent and curled up under a plaid.

Just before she drifted off to sleep, she felt a weight land near her and she jolted up.

"Laird, what on God's green earth are you doing here? It is entirely inappropriate for you to share my tent when I am yet unwed and still very much a virgin. You may not dishonor me in this way."

Her body was crackling with a surprising amount of astonishment and anger.

"Bridgid, in mere days we will be married and everyone in this camp knows it. I am too tired to fight with you tonight, let alone mount a serious effort at seduction. Trust me. You are more than safe with me sleeping here." He leaked his assertion out with the last of his energy and collapsed again next to her, throwing his heavy arm around her body and hugging her close to him. But, she peeled his arm off of her.

"You would have my mother learn of this? She is suspicious of me already." She crawled out of the tent, dragging a plaid with her. "I will sleep over here."

Ramsey peered after her as she spread out in the midst of the camp and near the dying fire. He considered her safe where she lay and he would rest to fight with her yet another day. He smiled as he looked forward to it.

Bridgid awoke suddenly. The fire had died completely and she was chilled. She quickly peered around her, getting her bearings. The faintest blue light of morning was threatening to appear. She had slept much longer than she planned. Yet, all in the camp seemed to be sound asleep. There was no time to lose.

She rose, sliding out of her plaid and crept on stealth feet to her horse. _Oh God, oh God, oh God._ She continually peered behind her to check that no one in the camp was stirring. _Oh God, oh God, oh God. _She unwrapped her horse's rope from its moorings on the nearest tree and spoke to it with her eyes as she glided it away. _Be my silent champion; make no sound, no swish of your tail, no whinny, no neigh, not this morning of all mornings._

Together, they walked off, heading south.

Ramsey was not a powerful Highland laird because he was a fool or unprepared. The little whip had made a sound. That she woke, stood, and walked right past his tent was more than enough to alert him to her presence and her plan. The little woman thought she could escape.

Lazily he stretched, yawning. It was damn early for this. Too early. He walked out of his tent throwing his plaid around him. He would surprise her. Of course. That he was right behind her would surprise her. He didn't think nudity was necessary. After all, as she was fond of reminding him, she was still quite innocent. God, he loved that.

He briefly debated whether or not to take his horse. After all, she had hers. Though she left on foot and clearly hadn't decided she was far enough away to ride, else he would have heard her. No, he would approach on foot and circuitously. She would never see him coming.

Bridgid debated riding the horse nearly from the moment she walked away from camp but always determined they were too close and the stiff clop of the hooves would alert the camp including the one man she wished to elude.

As she walked, she imagined her new life in England with her friend, Gillian, and her dear Uncle Morgan and, perhaps one day, settling down and marrying a nice man, someone she could love and someone who loved her. In particular, that he be nothing whatsoever like Ramsey Sinclair, that he be kind and gentle and caring and loving and considerate. He would cherish her and welcome her, he would seek her advice and counsel, he would take care of her and she would take care of him. A true give and take in an entirely different vein than the roles that had, thus far, been thrust upon her. With each step she took she grew ever more eager for it.

"I had no idea you were such an early riser. Are you so eager, then, to be home?"

She froze. Ramsey was leaning against a tree directly in front of her; one of his legs was bent casually, his foot resting on the trunk. She nodded, completely unsure of his question and why she was nodding.

He shook his head and clucked his tongue as he shrugged off the tree and moved toward her. "I cannot help but think that each time you are given free rein to wander off on your own, you roam far afield in an entirely wrong direction." He stared at her, trying to gauge her reaction. "Had you any idea, my dear, that you were moving south?"

She shook her head, then, although why she shook her head was a matter left entirely out of her grasp. Of course she knew she was moving south. 'Twas her intent…and he knew it. She was stunned to see him.

He walked to her very slowly. She did not move.

When he was directly in front of her, he cracked a faint smile. Leaning down, he placed a kiss upon her lips. She did not respond, but she did not push him away. He wrapped his arms around her waist and strengthened the kiss. It was a gentle assault, yet purposeful in its intent. He sought merely to remind her that she was his.

When she finally came to her senses, she pushed her hands against his chest and he loosened his grip.

"Laird, I have asked you not to kiss me again. You know very well that it scatters my intentions to the winds."

He nodded. Certainly, he knew. "Ramsey."

"Hmm?"

"You may call me Ramsey."

"I have no intention of calling you Ramsey. 'Tis too intimate."

"And does intimacy with me scare you?"

"It does not. I do not frighten easily, as you would do well to notice."

"I have. 'Tis one of the reasons you will be my lady."

"One? You imply, then, that there is more than one."

"There is."

"And the most pressing?" _Please say love; please say love._

"I want you. That is enough."

"Not for me," she said, as she turned abruptly away from him and once again resumed her walk with her horse.

Ramsey watched her strut away from him. He loved to watch the sway of her hips when she was riled, determined. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Love, need I remind you again, you are going in the wrong direction?"

"You needn't," she called back to him, "I know my way, Laird, better than you may appreciate."

"Bridgid, don't make me come after you again."

"You needn't bother, Laird."

The little twit was dismissing him and at a good clip, too. He ran after her. She turned at the sound of his heavy footfalls coming toward her and she climbed atop the horse and rode off.

Momentarily stunned that she could be getting away from him, Ramsey watched her fleeing form. Then he remembered the horse.

His whistle rent the early morning air and the mare stopped in its tracks and changed directions. Bridgid fought the mare as it returned to its master. And before she could think what to do next, Ramsey swung up on the horse behind her, grabbed the reins and started back to camp.

"You will not run away again. You exhaust me, Bridgid."

"A smart man may cut his losses with such a distraction."

"A smart man may. But, you have informed me that I am stupid and I am beginning to agree with you."


	3. Chapter 3

The caravan returning to the Sinclair land rode another long, hard day and when they set up camp for the night, the ritual played out in a similar fashion. Bridgid sought the privacy of a lake for much-needed time to bathe and blister Ramsey Sinclair's being. She worked herself into an exhausted lather and when she finally returned to the camp, she could barely keep her eyes open to eat.

She leaned against a tree staring at the fire and the man just beyond it. He sought her eyes and smiled. She lowered hers and curled up under her plaid to sleep.

Sometime later she awakened as she vaguely realized she was being carried into a tent. She sputtered to consciousness.

"What are you doing, Laird?"

"Protecting you," Ramsey stated, as he lay her down and settled in next to her.

Bridgid shot up but Ramsey's arm closed around her in an unrelenting embrace.

"Protecting me? From what? Your advances? I'd wager the result would be better earned far away from you than near."

"True enough," he yawned, "if I were protecting you from me. But, I am not. I am protecting you from you."

"From me?"

"Your inclinations."

"My inclinations?"

"To flee. Must I explain?"

"I am not sleeping here with you."

Ramsey leaned over her, menacing. "You are, even if I have to tie you to me for the remainder of the night. I need to sleep and I will not wake again to find you gone." He nearly barked his last words at her then slumped down to rest.

She lay next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. _How could I have loved him so? And for so long? He treats me like a chore. He dishonors me. And he seeks to make me his wife?_

Her jagged consciousness was shattered from the long journey as well as her emotions. She drifted off to sleep believing he had ruined her for any other man. But, perhaps he had done that a long time ago without her even knowing it.

She woke some hours later but the sky outside the tent told her it was still the dead of night. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Ramsey slept soundly, his breathing long and even. She carefully withdrew from the blanket and peered at him, studied him, the hard lines of his face and body were relaxed in exhausted sleep. She loved him still, very much. And she wished heartily that she could touch him. She wanted only to trace her fingers upon his eyes, his lips, down his torso. He tormented her. In sleep he was the man of her dreams. It was in waking that he became a nightmare. She could no longer afford to tarry.

Bridgid rose to a crouching position and sought to leave the tent.

"Bridgid."

She turned to him, crestfallen. _Was there nothing this man missed?_ "I need to answer nature's call. Nothing more."

He rose, propping himself on an elbow. "And would nature's call be anywhere near your horse?"

She frowned at him. He smiled at her.

"You may see for yourself if you do not believe me." She quickly excused herself from the tent.

"Thank you. I do not." He followed after her. He was stark naked.

When Bridgid glanced back, she noticed his state of dishabille and sucked in an astonished breath.

"Laird, you are indecent," she shrieked, as if she was pointing out a fact that had escaped him. "Had you difficulty finding your plaid in the dark?"

"No." He laughed.

She walked at a clipped pace to the lake, though she did not have to go; she could only maintain the pretense to save face.

"Would you please find a way to stay far away from me, then?" She was waving an arm out behind her.

"Have you noticed that I find that task increasingly difficult?"

"I have noticed," she replied, as she picked up her skirt and sat unceremoniously on a rock.

He stood watching her. She appeared entirely relaxed and remained there for a good length of time.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Have you finished, then?"

She turned to his voice and knew delay to be futile. "I will not return until you clothe yourself."

"Then we will have a good long wait here. For, I have no intention of walking back to camp and putting on my plaid only to return here to escort you back to camp only to remove my plaid again to sleep. Can you see the way of it? It would be pointless."

She silently agreed, but could not manage to get around his flagrant exhibitionism. She sat in contemplation.

Finally, Ramsey supplied the solution. "Love, return to camp and I will fade into the trees until you have passed, then I will take up my position of late, perpetually panting at your skirts. Can you find a flaw in that plan?"

She could not and, dejected, walked back to camp. Once beyond him, Ramsey followed closely at her heels. "I cannot help but think you cling a little too desperately to a thing soon sundered. This act does not fool me. I know you dream of it. Tell me, what did you see just now when you studied me back in the tent?"

Without thinking, she looked back at him while sucking in a shocked breath. Then, just as quickly she turned back, skirting the dead fire and crawling back into the tent.

"You needn't tell me," he said, laying down beside her, "I already know. I dream of it, too."

She wrapped her plaid around her tightly and turned away from him as he lay behind her and pulled her into his arms. He kissed the back of her ear and exhaled warmly into her neck. He drifted off to sleep thinking about how good she felt in his arms. She drifted off to sleep thinking that she felt _too_ good in his arms.

The following day, Ramsey pulled up alongside Bridgid's horse.

"And, how are you faring today, my sweet?"

"You know very well how I am faring."

"You think me capable of seeing that which you refuse to show?"

She stared determinedly ahead.

"In all honesty, you know as well as I do that we are fast-approaching home and I would send for the priest in all possible haste. Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

"I assumed you would assert your rights as laird regardless of how I felt on the matter."

"I am your laird and I have insisted that you return home to your family instead of remaining in England," he could scarcely keep the disdain from his face, "to bother an old man and seduce some poor Englishman."

"You think me a seductress," she screeched at him. "I am nothing but kind and gentle and obedient and –"

He laughed. "That may very well be, but ten proposals for your hand in marriage, including mine, would say otherwise."

She seethed.

"My father, when he was laird, made a promise to your father that he would see you wed _only_ to a man you loved. Then he died, leaving the teeth-gritting task of seeing you married to me. I have, at your behest, declined offer after offer from many good men. They would have treated you well. But, no. Each time you claimed you could not because you did not love the man. Thus, until a few days ago you remained unmarried because the one man you loved had not asked for your hand."

He stopped and grabbed the reins for Bridgid's horse, forcing her to stop.

"I have asked you to marry me. And we both know it is I you love. You are right. As your laird I could assert my rights and no one would gainsay me, least of all, you. But, I would have you say the words in front of a priest of your own free will. Will you?"

He searched her eyes for the answer he knew was in her heart.

"I cannot."

He let go of her reins and cantered on slowly. She followed.

"You have said I am surely stupid and in this I clearly am," he said finally, after some contemplation. "For, I know not why you cannot. But, there is one thing I know for sure. As Laird Sinclair I am tasked with seeing you, Bridgid KirkConnell, married _only_ to the man you love. And, I assure you," he leveled her with his brilliant eyes, "I will see it done before the week is out." With that he broke off again to set a fast pace.


	4. Chapter 4

When they finally arrived home the following day, Ramsey attended to one task above all others. As Graeme reported on the status of the clan in his absence, he gave Lochlan messages.

"Send for Father Laggan," he said loudly, piercing Bridgid with his determined stare. She did not miss the exchange and turned away from him to visit her mother's cottage.

Then he leaned quietly to Lochlan.

"Send an invitation to Laird and Lady Maitland for Sunday. Tell them to bring my brother Michael with them. And, send an invitation to Laird and Lady Buchanan. They should be arriving home as we speak."

"Shall I give them a reason," Lochlan asked.

"They will know," Ramsey curtly replied, and followed Graeme into the keep.

After a frustrating few hours catching up with her mother, Bridgid was just about to leave when there was a loud knock at the door. When her mother Leah opened the door, Ramsey filled the space. He was holding the small amount of things that were Bridgid's on the journey.

"Laird Sinclair, welcome," Leah rushed in greeting. "Come in, come in. Can I get you something to drink? Bridgid has been catching us up on your adventurous journey."

"Thank you, no. I cannot stay. I am only here to return Bridgid's things and to ask that she stay here with you for the next two nights." He turned and motioned for servants to bring in Bridgid's things from the servant's quarters where she had been staying.

Leah was flustered by the request, though knew she could not refuse her laird.

"Two nights," she said in questioning.

Bridgid was livid.

"It will only be until Sunday."

"And what happens on Sunday?"

Bridgid knew the words before they came out of his mouth.

"Leah, there has been another proposal for your daughter's hand in marriage. And, this time," he said glaring at his lovely bride-to-be, "it is simply an offer she cannot refuse."

"A love match, then," Leah clapped, looking at Bridgid and then Ramsey.

"Yes," Ramsey said.

"No," Bridgid said at the same time.

"'Tis far too rare in these parts, is it not," Leah asked.

"Yes," Ramsey said.

"Yes," Bridgid said at the same time.

Ramsey turned to the door. "I must be off, then. I have pressing matters to attend to."

"Of course. Certainly. We understand, Laird," Leah said.

Ramsey pressed a request into Bridgid's ear. "You will dine with me this evening." Leaving her no opportunity to refuse, he left.

At dinner Ramsey fussed and fidgeted like a child. The chair to his right was conspicuously empty. He fumed that she had the nerve to refuse a direct order while he listened to his soldiers prattle on about training and his need to assign someone the important duty of commander since Gideon's death. Any other evening, he would have shown a keen interest in these topics. Tonight, however, he had one thing on his mind. Her. _Where was she?_

He stood in the midst of his meal, wiping his mouth and dropping the linen on his plate. Graeme looked up from his litany of reports and suggestions. "Laird?"

"I will be right back."

He strode out of the keep and headed directly to Leah's cottage. He banged on the door. It swung open. Leah stared questioning.

"Laird, two surprises in one day? How can we serve you this evening?"

He stared inside the cottage at Leah's husband and Bridgid who were standing near the table.

"I've interrupted your dinner," he said.

"'Tis no interruption, Laird," Leah said, waving him in.

"I've come for Bridgid."

"Bridgid," she said, turning to her daughter. "Has she done something wrong?"

"Mother," Bridgid chastised her mother, "why would you instantly conclude I had done something wrong? Perhaps I have done something to deserve the laird's favor. Had you not considered that?"

"Is that it, then," Leah asked.

"Sorry, no. It is the former." He crooked a finger at Bridgid. "Come here."

"Would you have me rudely leave my mother's table in the midst of dinner?"

"Bridgid." Now it was Leah's turn to chastise. "I apologize, Laird. But, if you know my Bridgid, then you know that she can sometimes be a handful."

"Indeed, I am fast learning that. 'Tis the truth, it is a trait I would not see changed."

"Then, you are a better man than most, Laird, and with far more patience," Leah said.

"'Tis kind of you to see it. Would that your daughter could." He turned to Bridgid again. "Do not make me ask you again."

Bridgid stomped past Ramsey and out of the cottage. They walked back to the keep with Leah's apologies floating heavy on the breeze.

Inside the keep, he directed her to sit and called for her to be served.

"Thank you, no. As you saw, I have already eaten."

"Very well."

Ramsey sat and concluded his meal. He peered at her from time to time, smiling. He was pleased with himself. He ate and drank heartily and, though Bridgid refused food, he filled and refilled her wine goblet that he could finally see her relaxed.

The keep was all but deserted. He had killed his usual dinner companions only weeks before and his new ones had left when he went in search of Bridgid. Servants cleared and served but mostly stayed away. He thought it a nice evening after all.

"Come and sit with me by the fire," he said, standing from the table. He grabbed their wine goblets and she followed him over.

Seated now and studying her beautiful features, he took a deep breath. "I had hoped that we would have some time together before Father Laggan's arrival." He took a sip. She did, too.

"Would you like to marry? Consider the question without me. What of the sacrament, the institution? Have you some strong feelings that do not pertain to me that I should know about?"

"I am happy to marry, Laird, and one day have children. Is it not a woman's only sacred duty?"

"I care not of a woman's duty. I care about you."

She looked at him, then. "Do you?"

"Certainly, I do. As a laird cares for his clan, I care for you."

"Umm," she said, resting her lips on the rim of her goblet. "It is as I thought."

"Enlighten me, then. What have you thought?"

She took a deep, calming breath. "Laird –"

"Ramsey, please. I would like very much for you to call me by my given name."

"Ramsey," she chose her words carefully, "you honor my father and mother…you honor me," she met his eyes pointedly, "with your suit. I would have you know that I do not dismiss it lightly. I could not. I would never."

He looked to the fire, then. His eyes stared blankly as he rubbed a finger along his lips, listening.

"You are a good man," she continued, "the best of all men in my eyes. And, yet…"

She stopped and he looked up at her, desperately wanting to hear what was behind the hesitation she so clearly showed.

"…You do not see what I do and that is," she rushed on, "that you only asked for my hand to remove me from England, to gain my obedience. You use my father's pledge and my…feelings as simple tools in your arsenal. You solve problems, Ramsey, and I have been a continual thorn in your side since you became laird." He shook his head. "You have admitted such. You want me in your bed. Aye. You and nine others." He frowned at this. "But, do you want me by your side? Do you love me?"

She searched for him behind his mask of contemplation but he had no easy answers for her. After waiting and watching, she knew the answer that he refused to say. She stood to leave.

"You ask too much."

"No."

"Marriages in the Highlands have been arranged for less."

"I know. But, less is not good enough for me."

He stood, meeting her gaze.

"I want you, Bridgid, and no one else."

"I know. But, the true question is: how much?"

He kissed her, lightly. He was holding back. His mind and heart were in a whirl of confusion. But, she seemed to fill in the spaces where his chaos reigned. Her lips opened timidly and he seized upon her desire. Their tongues met and mingled. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him, never wanting to let go.

Strange sensations coursed through her body. An insistent tingling crept through her breasts and moved lower, turning into a dull ache. It was a delicious feeling and, oddly, she wanted more of it, more of the ache, more of him.

Wisely, and none too soon, Ramsey pulled away from her. "We will soon render your feelings moot if we continue like this."

She stared up at him bemused.

"We must be to our beds, separately, alone," he stressed, "for now."

In her haze, she was slow to come to comprehension. When finally what he was saying began to register, she stepped back, flustered.

"Of course." She turned and fairly flew to exit the keep. Ramsey quickly followed to see her to her cottage safely.

At her mother's door, she clasped the latch and Ramsey placed his hand over hers to stay the action. "We are not done with this conversation," he said.

"Have you a different answer, then?"

"I do not know."

"Well, when you _do_ know, seek me out. I will be the most curious to hear your answer."

"Though I am as certain as ever."

"Certain, Laird, of what?"

"Sunday. You will be my wife on Sunday."

"We shall see about that."

"Yes, we shall."

And in turning away from each other, they both sank into wondering.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Bridgid woke to the sounds of pounding. Once dressed, she noticed her mother and her mother's husband were gone. On the table they had left her some bread and cheese and she grabbed each and sailed out of the cottage.

The sun cast a brilliant glow on the land, burning the dew into mist that lingered just off the ground. Her clansmen and women were busy in their tasks. Everywhere she looked as she walked there was a buzz, a frenetic energy that was contagious. Smiles were easy. She waved to those she passed and they greeted her warmly in return. It _was_ good to be home.

When she approached the chapel next to the keep, she saw men hard at work on a structure that looked very much like an arch. It was forming around the top of the steps, just in front of the massive doors. Naturally, she wondered what it would be used for and, distracted, her heart leapt furiously as she spied the one man who could make it do so. He would not quash her joy on this fine morning.

She bounded up the steps of the chapel to him and flashed a heart-stopping smile. The sun in her face, she held a hand to her forehead and cocked her head to one side.

"Good morning, Laird. It is a beautiful morning, is it not?"

"It is now, my lady, for you make the sun shine brighter."

She chuckled at this and perused the men intently working beside them to see if they had heard their ruthless laird speak in such a manner.

"Do you try your hand at poetry, then?"

"If it works. Is it?"

She turned her head, drawing her brows together as if she were truly measuring the question.

"I cannot say that it is not."

"Well, then, it is a start. Would you have me say more words?"

"I think you know very well that there is only one word I would have you say." Then, abruptly turning the topic. "What is this?" She motioned to the structure forming in front of their eyes.

"Its purpose is clear to the one who would but see it."

What an obtuse answer; how very like the man. She examined the structure and its placement.

"Very well, then. I will simply have to divine its purpose since you appear to be less than forthcoming." Again turning the topic. "Have you seen my mother?"

"I have."

"And," she prodded, thinking the man loved to toy with her when she seemed particularly intent upon something.

He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned casually to one side, smiling. "She is in the great hall, I believe."

"Is she?" She crinkled her brows briefly. "And what does she see to in there?"

"I know not, for certain. Though, I am advised that it is terribly important."

"Terribly important? You have tasked my mother with something important?" She knew this to be a compliment to her mother, yet was surprised.

"I think she mentioned something about a wedding…" He trailed off, pleased for the moment, for his bride-to-be, who obstinately refused to acknowledge herself as such, was instantly fuming. God, he loved to watch the play of emotions tumble across her expressive face.

"This again," she spat the words as she turned to stomp off to the keep. But, Ramsey stayed her with a gentle but unrelenting hand on her arm. He walked down a couple of steps so that he could look her in the eye.

"'Twill be a glorious day tomorrow. I would not see you ruin it while you stubbornly cling to your pride." He placed one arm around her, warming the small of her back. He pulled her slowly and efficiently up against him.

Her eyes flicked around them as she trembled like a frozen mouse.

"Laird, 'tis unseemly. You may not caress me like this in broad daylight and in front of the entire clan." She pushed against him as she motioned with her body and her eyes that they were in the midst of a captive audience.

He ignored them entirely. He did not relent his hold; he only grew bolder. He leaned in to her; his mouth was barely an inch from hers. "If they look, they see only what I have declared to them, that you will be my wife, their lady. 'Tis hardly unseemly, then, for them to see us kiss. It is only natural." And he did kiss her, then, with no affectations of unease or hesitancy. Indeed, he ravaged her mouth, forcing her to open hers and plunging his tongue in to mate with hers. As he held her close, he traced his hand lightly around the small of her back.

Ramsey loved the feel of her too much. When his hand moved downward of its own accord to clasp her buttocks he immediately stopped, wrenching himself away. Soon, he knew, and for the rest of his life, he would have her. She stared at him, her wits momentarily flown. That he could affect her so. He could pierce right to the heart of her vulnerability with one kiss. She stepped around him and went to find her mother in the keep.

"Bridgid," Ramsey called after her. She turned back to him. He was smiling, too sure of himself. "You will join me for dinner this evening."

She shook her head at him.

"Dare you disobey me in front of the entire clan?"

"You cared not of your audience before."

He walked down the steps to meet her. "You _will_ join me for dinner this evening as we are having a guest, a very important guest. You will greet him with me, by my side." He emphasized his last words, knowing they alluded to her questions of last evening.

Somewhat appeased by this, she nodded. "As you will, then, Laird." She turned and left.

Bridgid found her mother braiding rushes in the great hall. She was just one of many women working diligently in their tasks. The hall was being cleaned and whitewashed. Tapestries and runners were being changed or cleaned. No detail was left untended.

When Leah looked up and saw her daughter, she dropped her work and flashed a bright smile.

"Daughter," she shouted in happy greeting. She ran to her and gave her a warm hug and placed a sloppy kiss upon her forehead. Then, she held her by the arms, examining her. "Why did you not tell me of your glorious news? I had to hear it from our laird. It is _he_ you have agreed to marry?"

"There is a simple reason I have not told you."

"And," Leah waited in anxiousness.

"It is because I have not agreed to marry him."

"He told me you would say that." She let go of her daughter and turned back to her work. "Come, sit with me here while I work."

Bridgid sat down beside her mother and took up rushes to braid. But, Leah stayed her hand, taking the rushes from her. "You are not to lift a finger."

"Why not? I am an important contributor to this clan. I have always happily agreed to do my fair share."

"So you have, so you have," Leah declared, "but _he_ has commanded it. You are to be Lady Sinclair. Your rank precludes such work. You must acclimate yourself to your new role. It is the highest honor, the highest."

Bridgid nodded, knowing her mother sought the accolades more than the honor.

Leah studied her daughter, wondering on the edges of her hesitancies.

"What is it, my beautiful daughter, that holds you back from this?" Leah saw Ramsey out of the corner of her eyes and smiled to call a greeting, but he shook his head and held a finger to his mouth, imploring her to make no note of him.

"He does not love me, mother," she practically wailed her lament. "He wants me in his bed."

"And what man would not," Leah interrupted Bridgid's explanation.

"He tolerates me," Bridgid continued. "He has a hole to fill and dirt to fill it. That is all."

"Dirt? I am afraid you have lost me, daughter."

"I am his problem to be solved," she looked into her mother's eyes, pleading for her understanding. "It is not the love match that I had planned."

"Ah, love. You were always fanciful in that. Your father, God rest him until I get there, always abetted you in your notions. But, you insult me when you declare it is not the love match you had planned. For, in truth, we both know it is exactly the love match you have always planned. You love him, daughter."

"I do," Bridgid answered with no hesitation, "with all my heart." Leah glanced at Ramsey.

"And, how long have you loved him?"

"How long? I cannot say. It seems that I have loved him my whole life and, yet, I know that since his return, since he became laird, it suddenly became very real."

Leah smiled warmly, then, and leaned in to take her daughter's hand. "Then, do yourself a favor, do your heart a favor, and give him a chance."

"And risk getting hurt when he casts me aside?"

"Why would he cast you aside? Do you think so little of your laird?"

"You know I do not."

"Apparently, I do not."

"Without love, this passion he has for me is fleeting. He could have anyone in his bed, mother, anyone," she stressed. "I could not take the devastation when he turns from me. I would be his helpmate, his partner, the mother of his children, his dearest friend, as well as his lover." Her voice faded off, embarrassed at her own pledge. "Would that I could know he felt the same."

"Then all is not lost. You may one day hear that pledge and know it to be true when you do." Leah sought to make eye contact with Ramsey again but found him gone. She patted her daughter's hand and returned to her rushes.

Bridgid strove to avoid the keep and Ramsey for the rest of the day. Since she was not allowed to work as she had before, she went to the stables to find a horse to ride. She carried her bow and arrows, just in case. And if they afforded her some dinner, well, all would be the better.

She flew out of the stables on the back of a gray mare she favored. Her golden hair trailed behind her and caught the sun. When she passed Ramsey on her way to the fields he was struck momentarily by her beauty, her smile. She seemed to be happy. That she could love him so. He knew not why he was favored, but was determined to earn it.

But, in a flash, fear crept in at her leaving. _Would she seek to leave me even now?_ He whistled to Proster and waved him over furiously.

"Yes, Laird?"

"See to a horse and follow your lady," he pointed to the gold and gray vision that rode off. "She has a tendency to wander south these days and I would not see her lost to me."

Proster nodded and smiled as he climbed on a horse and rode off after her. He knew the lady was giving his laird trouble. And, he could not help himself. He enjoyed seeing the fierce warrior twist just a little in the wind.

Bridgid had not intended to go far while she was all alone. She was chastened and more than aware of the possibilities of unseen danger since her and Gillian's brush with death. But, she caught sight of Proster trailing dutifully behind her, no doubt at his laird's request. The man was becoming a worrier where she was concerned. He would assign anyone to watch over her if he himself could not do it. She knew this should annoy her but, in truth, it warmed her heart. Though he could not yet say the words, she knew he cared for her, if only just a little.

With Proster watching her back, she rode deep into the surrounding forests and hard for many hours. Because of the arduous journey to England and back, she had become accustomed to riding for several hours in a day and found she enjoyed the diversion. When she finally stopped to rest, she spotted a plump rabbit and eagerly nocked her bow. But, as she carefully took aim, Proster rode forward.

"My lady, get down," he screamed. He, too, had his bow nocked.

Bridgid crouched low on her horse, waiting for an ambush to appear. And, when it did not, she carefully picked her head up and looked around.

"Where is the danger," she asked.

"I know not," he replied. "I saw you nock your bow and take aim. I assumed you intended someone injury that I could not yet see.

"I did," she laughed, "my dinner. But, you scared him off."

"Your dinner? You were hunting? Does Laird Sinclair know of this?"

She sat back on her horse, pursing her lips and scolding him with her eyes. "I expect he does not. I do not need his permission to do anything, nor do I seek his sanction or approval. I am a hunter, a good one. I have been doing thus for some time now and plan to continue doing as such."

"My lady, 'tis not proper for a woman to do such things."

"My father taught his only child to hunt. I care not what anyone else thinks. Now, if you would kindly quiet yourself and watch, you might learn something."


	6. Chapter 6

Ramsey saw the priest before he saw Ramsey. He waved to him and called out a warm greeting.

"Laird Sinclair," Father Laggan said as he came to a stop in the courtyard. "I received your summons. I have arrived without delay, as you requested. I only hope there is nothing the matter. Your soldier was not very forthcoming."

"Rest assured," Ramsey said as he directed the man into the keep, "it is nothing grave. But, I do require the sacrament of reconciliation."

"Indeed," the priest questioned. "You have sinned, my son?"

"I am afraid so, Father. Could you stay for a couple of days?"

In the hall, Ramsey motioned for two wine goblets to be filled while the two men sat at the end of the long table.

"Days," the priest asked before he took a long swallow from his goblet.

"Yes. You see, I am in need of two sacraments over these two days to see me once again right in the eyes of the Church."

"Two, my son? Have you grievously injured someone, then? Is yet another one of your enemies in need of last rites?"

"No, Father," Ramsey laughed. "You know me better than that. I kill my enemies. I do not injure them. And, even if I did, I would never send for a priest. I would leave them outside of these walls to die slowly and painfully like the dogs they are."

Father Laggan knew the truth in what Ramsey said. Behind his exterior, his kind and decent heart, and his reputation for diplomacy lay a ruthless killer who would never fail to serve anyone deserving a well-meted justice.

"I had hoped my clanswoman, Bridgid KirkConnell, could have greeted you when you arrived but she appears to be nowhere in sight. However, she will be joining us for dinner."

"This Bridgid, is she important to you, Laird?"

"She is. Can we commence with reconciliation now? In anticipation of your arrival, I have taken the liberty of setting up a screen in my room. Would you care to join me there?"

"I am ready, Laird."

Father Laggan followed Ramsey above the great hall to his chamber.

"This sin we go to address, does it involve Bridgid KirkConnell?"

"You are a wise man, Father."

Ramsey went outside when he heard the horses return. Father Laggan trailed eagerly behind him.

He saw that Proster was escorting the horses back to the stable while Bridgid was walking to the kitchens.

"Have you no greeting for your laird?"

She seethed at the high-handed tone of his voice. Yet, when she turned she had plastered a most accommodating, almost simpleton grin on her face. When she approached them, Father Laggan gasped while Ramsey did his best to quash the broad smile that threatened to break out on his face. He scowled instead. A thin layer of dirt coated her body. Random dirt stains were sprinkled throughout her plaid as well as dark red splotches that resembled only one probable thing.

"My child," Father Laggan rushed to her, "you are hurt."

"Oh, no, Father," she said in reassurance. Just then he noticed the sling of dead rabbits that she was carrying. "'Tis not my blood. I am perfectly fit."

The priest turned to Ramsey to gauge his reaction. Ramsey held a hand in front of his mouth to hide his smile and coughed to hold back his laughter when the priest queried, "You seek to marry this girl?"

He cleared his throat and resumed scowling at heavy price to his composure. "You tell me, Father, do I have any other choice?" But Ramsey knew his answer before he gave it.

"No, of course not. The deed is done. One can only sanctify it to satisfy the Church. Laird, I would that others of your kind," he leaned in to Ramsey to supply the next under his breath, "I speak of the Buchanan in this – could be so utterly straightforward as you when it comes to matters of the spirit," the next under his breath, "and the flesh."

Ramsey smiled, then, knowing his own brand of trickery in this instance surely rivaled his friend's. "Yes, Father, we could learn something from one another."

Bridgid had tried to follow the cryptic conversation between Ramsey and Father Laggan but could not discern any meaning behind "the deed" and "satisfy the Church" and assumed it was a matter well out of her purview. "With your permission, I would like to be excused. I am to the kitchens to deposit my kill."

"Your kill?" Father Laggan knew very well what she meant as she saw him notice the rabbits moments ago. Still, he seemed utterly taken aback. "She is a savage, Laird. No proper lady would have need to _deposit her kill_." He nearly spit the last in disdain. "Still, one man cannot reason through another man's desire. You have clearly made your choice and will marry on the morrow."

"Marry," she stomped, suddenly infuriated. "Laird, may I have a word with you in private?"

"Are you not to the kitchens, then?" Ramsey grabbed her and spun her. Leading her to the kitchens, he called back to the priest. "Father, Bridgid and I look forward to dining with you this evening."

The priest watched the pair, his mouth agape. He nodded and waved at Laird Sinclair but when he turned, he shook his head, mumbling, "I am surely no expert in matters of the heart."

Bridgid was fuming. Ramsey was laughing.

"Well," she said, "explain yourself. Have you, indeed, gone behind my back and solicited a priest in your attempts to sway me to marry you? Do you stoop so low, then? Your treachery rivals Laird Buchanan and when the priest finds out—"

"Calm yourself, my sweet." He could not suppress the laughter in his voice. "You knew very well I had sent for the priest."

"Yes, but, I assumed that the man could be swayed by reason. Yet, he speaks as if the matter is not negotiable at this point."

"It is not."

"It is."

"It is not."

"It is." She glared at him to emphasize her point.

They entered the kitchen and Bridgid smiled at the cook as she handed her the rabbits. The cook, in turn, received them with measured delight, scanning her laird for his feelings on the matter. It seemed a commonplace occurrence to Ramsey and he wondered how much and for how long this beautiful woman had supplied his table.

When they left the kitchen, they walked to her mother's cottage in silence. Outside the door, Ramsey stepped toward her, backing her against the door, his body lightly touching hers. He reminded her of their dinner.

"We shall host him together."

She nodded, weighing the duty in her mind. "Together, you say?"

"Yes," he supplied. "Side by side, if you will."

The man kept reminding her of her request from the previous night, making it impossible to regard him entirely as a callous ogre.

"I would be remiss, then, if I did not."

"Absolutely," he affirmed.

"'Twill give me an opportunity to lay out my side on the matter of our marrying."

"If you like," he smiled, "but I would warn you now, he seems," he pretended to search for the proper words, "set on the matter. You would do well to choose your words carefully with him."

"As you clearly have," she returned, her ire rising.

"'Tis easy to speak the truth. Of course, you have that working against you."

"Hmm," she snorted, "we shall see which _truth_," she stressed the word derisively, "he favors. I warrant that I can be very persuasive."

"Ah, that you can," he said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. It was becoming a ritual, building her anger and then deflating it with a kiss. He played with her lips, drawing some of the bluster from her. Then he coaxed them open, tasting her with his tongue and mingling with her own. He lingered there, content to have her in his arms; the feeling of being close to her, holding her was like nothing he had ever felt before. And, though she fought him in every other respect, she did not, could not fight his kisses. Finally, he pulled himself away, ending the embrace with a simple peck on her nose. "Then again," he said, staring into her eyes, "I can be very persuasive, too."

Bridgid agreed with a glazed nod as Ramsey smiled and walked off.

He called back to her over his shoulder. "Bridgid?"

"Yes, Laird?"

"You're filthy." His laughter sailed behind him.

Bridgid immediately glared at his back, then wiped her face. In truth, she was filthy.

When Bridgid entered the great hall for dinner it was teeming with the chosen, those given the special privilege of dining with their laird. Men sat eating heartily. Conversation and wine flowed easily. Some acknowledged her as they broke off a piece of bread or sipped from their goblets and she smiled or nodded in return.

She was certain she was inarguably late when she spied three place settings waiting patiently at the end of the table. But, where were Ramsey and the priest? She sought Lochlan to inquire.

"Where is Laird Sinclair?"

"Good eve', my lady. He sits by the fire with the priest." Lochlan pointed with bread in his hand to the two tall-backed chairs near the hearth.

She nodded in thanks when she saw them, but addressed Lochlan again. "What do you here, eating before the laird has eaten?"

"'Tis no sign of disrespect or disobedience, my lady. He asked that we start without him. He waited on you, I believe."

Satisfied, she sought Ramsey and the priest but called back to Lochlan. "Lochlan, I am not 'your lady.' I am merely Bridgid KirkConnell, if you'll remember."

"Aye, my lady, I do remember your lovely name," Lochlan responded with laughter in his voice.

Bridgid ground her teeth at the burgeoning conspiracy within the clan to place her as their lady without her say. An effort that Ramsey seemed only too pleased to foment.

"Laird Sinclair, Father Laggan, I apologize if I am late."

They both stood and appraised her.

"No apologies, my child," said Father Laggan, "we were merely enjoying our conversation here by the fire until your arrival. And you look lovely this evening, well worth the wait, is she not?" He turned to Ramsey.

"She is, indeed," Ramsey replied as he stared at Bridgid, smiling. "Come, you must be famished, Father. I hear that Cook has prepared us a lovely rabbit stew."

The three sat, Ramsey at the head, Bridgid to his right, and Father Laggan to his left, and enjoyed their dinner. They spoke about the state of the clan and the Church, about Laird and Lady Buchanan's recent marriage, about the kidnap and safe return of Alec Maitland, and about the conspiracy to lure Ramsey to his death and takeover the Sinclair clan. Bridgid was involved in every facet of the discussion. Indeed, Ramsey placed his hand on hers from time to time and seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts and feelings. Though the din in the hall threatened to drown them out, Bridgid felt that it was a most enchanting evening.

When the men and servants cleared out, Bridgid thought it finally the appropriate time to speak to Father Laggan of her concerns.

"Father, I cannot help but wonder what brings you to the Sinclair lands so soon after leaving them?" She knew exactly why he was there and swallowed the knowledge in her attempts to affect a curious tone. "We did not expect you to come around again for some months."

"Yes, my dear," Father Laggan wiped his mouth and set his dishes from him, "but surely you must know that I am here at your laird's request." Father Laggan glanced at Ramsey uncomfortably and then looked at Bridgid.

"My laird's? No. Though this dinner would prove it otherwise, I am hardly privy to his thoughts. My laird Sinclair would hardly confide in me on any matters of import."

Father Laggan could not hide his confusion that the lass could be so ill-informed.

"Why, I am here to marry you and Laird Sinclair tomorrow."

His statement hung in the air between them. Ramsey looked to Bridgid, trying to gauge her reaction and her intent.

"Marry? Me? You must be mistaken, Father. I have not agreed to Laird Sinclair's proposal. Surely you are a man who would not force a woman to marry against her will. I know of your benevolence and," she added to solidify her case, "strict adherence to the custom that a woman, however lowly, may decide her fate in these matters."

Ramsey sat back, enjoying the conversation.

"Indeed, my child, I _do_ adhere to the custom that a woman _may_ decide her fate. But, I have an obligation to abide by the laws of the Church above all others and in _this_ there can be no debate."

"I am afraid I am confused, Father. A proposal is not a betrothal. I am in no way bound to Laird Sinclair."

"Ah, my dear, that is where you are wrong. You are young and, therefore, not knowledgeable about the ways between a man and a woman but Laird Sinclair seeks to right the actions of recent days in the eyes of the Church. I am here to see that he does."

"What actions of recent days?" The question was intended for the priest, though she glared at Ramsey.

Father Laggan looked at Ramsey, his discomfort and agitation oozing through every pore. Finally, Ramsey relented, placing his hand on hers.

"Please, Bridgid, Father Laggan is bound against repeating anything that he has learned in confession. I think you are more than fully aware of what we speak."

In truth, she was not. She had started this conversation feigning curiosity, knowing that her confusion was merely a ruse to draw the priest into a discussion on the matter of marriage. Now she sat, raptly searching for any knowing that could shed some light.

"My laird, I do not," she said to Ramsey. Then she looked to Father Laggan. "I know of nothing I have done that would bind me for life to this man."

Rising tension crackled in the air amongst the three. The priest was there in all good faith, allying himself with Laird Sinclair because he believed the man's actions to be above reproach. But, Ramsey knew that he was finally closing the trap he had been preparing for some days. Bridgid, willing or no, would marry him the next day. The priest would see to that.

Bridgid, for her part, could feel the noose tightening. She knew not how or why, but she sensed with increasing certainty that her choices were slowly slipping from her grasp. She swallowed the inevitable bitterly, even as she wracked her brain for the answers she sought, as she awaited an explanation.

Ramsey leaned into Bridgid, barely speaking above a whisper. "We speak, my love, of the nights we've recently spent together. I have ruined you for any other man. 'Tis only right and fair that it be sanctified by the Church." He looked to the priest and the priest nodded.

Bridgid was, at once, embarrassed and fuming. Without thinking, she flung a hand over Ramsey's mouth, as if closing it would draw back the words.

Father Laggan was stunned that a mere girl, though soon to be his lady wife, could treat her laird with such open disrespect. He sought Ramsey for a strong dressing down. While Ramsey merely grabbed her hand gently and placed it on the table, saying nothing.

Finally collecting her wits, "Father, there has been a mistake," she sputtered.

"Bridgid," warned Ramsey, "I know this topic must be embarrassing for you. Yet, you cannot think to lie to a priest."

"I do not lie," she pleaded with the priest, "it is only that…" She faded off as she searched for a suitable answer. She could not deny that she _had_ slept _next_ to Ramsey on their return journey from England. But, they had done nothing illicit. Surely dictates concerning a woman's compromise were not so stringent.

"Father, I am sure you can understand that she is flustered by this discussion," Ramsey interjected. "It is enough that you and I seek to right the wrong. Furthermore," he added, thinking on his words, "it would be exceedingly remiss of me not to admit that I am _fond_ of her."

"Fond? Fond!" Bridgid stood. She had had enough. "Father, if I am compromised by a mere technicality of sleeping arrangements, then so be it. Although, I dare say that many a woman would be considered a camp follower in the eyes of God if the Church deemed such technicalities official." She turned to exit the hall as the men stood watching her. She was irate. The priest was aghast. Ramsey squelched a smile.

"If I must marry that arrogant lout tomorrow to remain in good standing with the Church, then I _must_," she fairly screeched the last word. "But, so help me God, I will not be happy about it. Laird, you have broken a promise to your father and in so doing have broken a promise to my father and in so doing have broken a promise to me. I was promised a love match, damn it!" At the door, she turned and looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. "You have not only broken your promise, you have broken my heart." And she left.

Father Laggan looked to Ramsey, expecting him to follow her and issue a harsh rebuke. But, Ramsey merely shook his head.

"She speaks of love," the priest asked.

"Yes," Ramsey answered. "She is naïve, isn't she?"

"I should say so. You have your hands full with that one, Laird. I do not envy you."

He agreed to the former but let the latter hang in the air, knowing any man would.


	7. Chapter 7

"I am come to fetch you."

The voice was too singsong in Bridgid's ear and she groaned, pulling the covers over her head. She had passed the previous night between fits of crying and pounding on her pillow in a rage.

After her mother tried once to assuage the tidal wave of emotions eliciting none-too-quietly from her daughter's bed, she had given up, content in the knowledge that only one more night, restless though it may be, stood between herself and privacy, herself and all of the honor and privileges of being the mother of Lady Sinclair. Would it, then, matter that her daughter had pitched an adult-sized tantrum until the very moment the vows were solemnized? She certainly hoped not.

Just then the makeshift screen that served to provide some privacy for Bridgid from her mother's bed was pulled back. Gillian Buchanan peered down at her friend's familiar form enshrouded under blankets and she laughed, pulling down the blankets her best friend was clinging to a little too desperately. The surprise that showed on Bridgid's face did nothing to alter the evidence of the night before. Gillian saw her puffy eyes and blotchy complexion and sat down on the bed next to her.

"You seem, somehow, reluctant, friend," Gillian said, barely containing her mirth, "as the condemned to the executioner. Come now and tell me it is not all that bad."

Bridgid sniffed a little too dramatically as she sat up. "What brings you here?"

"You, silly. 'Tis your wedding day, unless I have been ill-informed. Certainly all of your guests that are only now arriving will find their efforts an extreme waste of their time and energies were they to have journeyed for naught. You know me. I would use any excuse to visit you." She nudged her friend playfully.

"And, so it is," Bridgid barely acknowledged.

"What is this," Gillian said as she picked up Bridgid's face and examined it. "Can this be fear of the wedding night? I know _you_ above anyone cannot be suffering from bridal nerves. For that is reserved for those poor women who do not know their husbands, whose husbands are cruel or old or unsightly to look upon. But, not you. You have been in love with Ramsey for how long? Your whole life?"

"You would not understand," Bridgid answered meekly.

"No? Think you I ran to the altar to marry Brodick? If you'll recall, he tricked me _and_ the priest. Oh, and I was sitting on a horse at the time."

"Ramsey tricked me, too. And the priest only abets him. I think he has learned well from your husband."

Gillian smiled at this. "'Tis too early to judge if they are a bad influence upon each other or a good one."

"But, Ramsey has claimed – _falsely_ – that I have been compromised by him. The priest seeks merely to correct it. In his eyes, I was well and goodly married when I merely lay _next_ to Ramsey on our return journey from England. Can there be anything more absurd?"

"No. I cede you the point, there. Why many is the woman who would be considered a camp follower if the Church were so stringent."

"'Tis exactly what I said," Bridgid bemoaned. "But, Ramsey will have his way. The priest will see to that."

"And would that be so awful? I think you protest not the man but the manner."

Bridgid had no good answer for this.

"In fact, you seem to battle not your heart but your head. Would you forsake the man you love because it was not done _your_ way. Think you the right to require it? Look at Judith and me. We are well and goodly married to the men we love though fairly ambushed in the doing. Yet, we are happy, blissfully so. Come now," Gillian found Bridgid's hands and grasped them warmly, "for if you continue like this, puss, you will be getting far more than you deserve on this day."

Ian and Judith Maitland arrived with their children and Ramsey's brother Michael shortly before midday. Ramsey completely forgot that his much younger brother did not know him very well and was even frightened of him at times and he picked him up warmly, hugging him to himself and proclaiming how he had missed him. The boy studied him askance, wondering at his behavior. But, Ramsey merely chuckled at his reticence and sent him off to play with the rest of the children.

"'Tis about time you married," Judith said, admonishing her husband's former soldier with the forthrightness he had come to expect from her.

"Aye, Judith, you are right. But, 'tis you I have to blame for it," Ramsey replied good-naturedly.

"Is that right," she replied as they walked into the keep.

"All these years I searched for a woman like you. I thought the English had some claim on loveliness when I only had to open my eyes to see it right in front of my face."

"Ah, 'tis true," Ian said, slapping a heavy hand on his shoulder, "our Highland lasses _nearly_ outshine them all. Speaking of, when do we get to meet your bride?"

They entered the great hall now freshly clean and whitewashed. The sprays of color were of newly cut flowers loosely braided together and hanging down the walls or gathered in vases down the long table or adorning the mantle, the dew was still on them and the smell was vibrant, heady. The women who had worked had spared no efforts.

Brodick joined them. "Yes, where is the girl?"

"She comes late to her eagerness," Ramsey replied. "I would that she could be hurried along." Turning to Judith. "She tarries in her cottage. Gillian was sent to her but seems to be floundering in her efforts. In truth, who knows what the two of them are up to."

"Indeed. Those two together are more mischievous than purposeful," Brodick said.

"Then they are well-matched to their husbands," Judith said to much laughter.

"I cannot argue the point. But, would you see to their delay, Judith? I am unaccountably anxious. The girl has a habit of skirting my plans of late. I would see today unblemished by her machinations."

"You paint her devious," Ian said. "Then she is, indeed, well-matched to you." More laughter.

"I would allay your concerns, Ramsey," Judith said. "The girl will come."

Moments later Judith left with a woman sent to show her the way to Bridgid's cottage; they carried food and wine to smooth the way.

Ramsey, Brodick, and Ian sat as servants filled goblets and placed trenchers of steaming food before them. They devoured as they talked.

"So, the girl _'comes late to her eagerness'_," Brodick mocked as he put a piece of venison in his mouth.

Ramsey smiled at his friend's ribbing. "Aye. But, you know very well she is stubborn, that one, when set upon something."

"Aye, I do," Brodick fairly choked on his food as he fought his laughter. "The scene at Baron Chapman's was but a taste?"

"Aye," Ramsey rolled his eyes, incensed at the reminder.

"What scene? Who is Baron Chapman," Ian asked.

"Gillian's uncle," Brodick answered. "The women were reinforced against our intentions when we arrived there." Brodick recounted what had happened at Baron Chapman's when he and Ramsey went to collect Gillian and Bridgid, including the fact that Bridgid had decided to remain in England.

Ian was incredulous. "And how did you persuade her," he finally asked.

"Simple. I proposed."

"Not so simple, I warrant," Brodick said. "After all, she is not here. She lingers far away from you. I have never known a woman to do that."

"She is miffed at me, that is all. She thinks me heavy-handed."

Ian and Brodick stared at Ramsey as they chewed, simpleton grins on their faces, waiting for him to continue.

"Let it suffice to say that she took more persuading than honesty allows."

Brodick could barely contain his food as he guffawed. "Tell me, please, though I can hardly take much more of this." He was thoroughly enjoying his friend's difficulties, as it was a first for Ramsey to fair so poorly in wooing any woman.

Ramsey exhaled slowly. "She could not be persuaded to the match on the journey home from England, though my attempts were earnest. I know she loves me and 'tis a love match she seeks, so I do not break my father's solemn pledge to her father, which is important to me. But, she protests that I merely seek to solve a problem, that I merely want to bed her."

"Those are reason enough," Brodick interrupted, nodding at his own assertion.

"Of course, but she would not be swayed by them."

"Marriages in the Highlands are built on less," Ian added, always practical.

"I said as much," Ramsey replied, "but she is stubborn to a fault. I am almost ashamed to admit, I used duplicity." He looked at Brodick, knowing this was a man who would appreciate duplicity. He was not wrong as Brodick was again grinning like a simpleton. Ramsey continued. "I pled in a confession that I had dishonored Bridgid on our return from England, that I slept with her."

"Did you," Ian asked.

"Did I dishonor her or did I sleep with her?"

Brodick and Ian exchanged knowing glances.

"The priest abets me, even now."

Brodick choked down the remainder of his wine, asking, "Does he know?"

"What do you think," Ramsey asked.

Brodick and Ian merely smiled and shook their heads, impressed. Ramsey always got his woman.


	8. Chapter 8

An hour later the chapel was bursting with swells of Sinclairs and MacPhersons, members of the Maitland and Buchanan clans, and lairds and ladies representing all of the nearby clans. Even those who were feuding set aside old or petty grievances to attend the wedding of a Highland laird. Today they would attend the sacred marriage rite, eat, drink, and dance and tomorrow they will resume as they had left off, bitter enemies once again.

Ramsey stood near the altar, resplendent in a crisp linen shirt and his plaid, the pleats perfectly groomed. He appeared utterly poised, even resigned, though inside he was fuming. Judith had informed them some time ago that Bridgid was ready and everyone had swarmed into the chapel expectantly. As time passed with no sign of her, people were growing restless. No less the groom himself. _Where is she?_

Brodick and Ian stood next to him. They spoke quietly to each other avoiding Ramsey, whom they alone knew to be restraining his growing anger. They, too, were growing increasingly incensed, though at their own wives for the delay. Michael should have been standing with them, but he had given up long ago and sat whispering to Alec Maitland in the front pew.

Father Laggan was attempting the very picture of propriety. He stood on the small altar stock straight and very somber, though he periodically picked at his vestments and wiped at the sweat dripping down his face. Time was slowly inching by.

Finally the din of those gathered outside seemed to dissipate and a heavy rush of air accompanied the chapel door being opened. Judith and Gillian entered, found their husbands with their eyes and smiled. Then they each stepped to a side of the door.

Ramsey motioned to Michael to return to stand beside Ian and the boy reluctantly did so. Ramsey searched the open doorway for her and then his breath caught in his throat.

Bridgid stood in the doorway; the sun illuminated her long, curly golden hair. It seemed a shroud of mist and light surrounding her. Her dress was simple underneath her plaid and yet it hugged her curves in just the right places and was silhouetted by the light shining in. Ramsey sought her face, but it was hidden deep in shadow. _What is her mood?_

Bridgid's stepfather had been waiting for her and as a piper began to play, he extended an arm. She looked at him flustered and unsure and Judith nodded at her in reassurance, then began walking down the aisle. When Gillian moved to follow, she peered at Bridgid, imploring her with her eyes to follow immediately after her. When Bridgid finally nodded, Gillian began floating down the aisle.

Finally, all in the chapel stood, their eyes resting solely upon her. Bridgid cracked a weak smile. She tried to recall her girlhood dreams of this day, of Ramsey standing so handsome near the altar waiting for her, smiling at her, loving her. The music continued and her stepfather looked at her, wanting to proceed forward. But, she remained plastered in the entryway of the chapel. She grew increasingly nervous and began shaking. Bridgid sought his face, sought to recreate that smile from her dreams, but it was hidden deep in shadow. _What is his mood?_

Bridgid stared right through those who were staring at her, a sea of faces melding one into another, no distinction, no recognition, no reassurance.

"Are you ready, my child?"

Startled, Bridgid turned to see her father on her arm, the one man who truly knew her and loved her. Long ago he had given in to his willful daughter and promised that she could marry for love. He was a romantic at heart, just like her. She blinked frantically, trying to clear her mind. Her father was dead.

"'Tis time," he said, smiling at her. She nodded and together they walked down the aisle.

Everyone in the chapel seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief as she made her way to the altar. Rumors had been flying fast and furious of "Ramsey's reluctant bride." Most, it seemed, hung on her every move, waiting for her to do something rash.

She could see Ramsey's face now as she approached him; he smiled warmly and a heady light seemed to infuse him. Without conscious thought, she returned his smile. It seemed the companionable thing to do. And, truly, it was not hard. After all, he was magnificent.

At the altar now, Ramsey moved to take her arm as the priest inquired as to who gives her. She turned to her father and saw instead her mother's new husband once again. He intoned nervously that he did and handed her over to his laird.

Ramsey's grip was strong, filled with purpose, even possession as he held her. She listened to Father Laggan intently, unable to look at Ramsey, dreading the vows to come.

As is often the case when something is dreaded, the time arrived much too soon for her. She faced Ramsey and his hands gripped hers fiercely. True to custom, the priest asked her first if she would take Ramsey as her husband, if she would love, honor, and obey him. But, her silence in response filled the chapel. Again the congregants were leaning forward; Ramsey was holding her in a death grip. She trembled; her throat grew increasingly dry and raw.

Then he chuckled softly. She looked to his face and saw that Ramsey appeared to be in a fine mood. He was not angry with her; he was laughing at her. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Father, I know it is hardly customary," Ramsey said with a lilt in his voice, "but I would like to go first. She appears to be nervous. Perhaps my words would ease the way."

Father Laggan nodded, then, and asked Ramsey if he would take her for his wife, if he would love, honor, and cherish her.

"I will," he said loudly and firmly. He continued, before Father Laggan could turn again to Bridgid. "I will be her helpmate, her partner, the father of her children, her dearest friend, and her lover. If only I could know she felt the same."

Bridgid's jaw dropped as she stared at him in open astonishment while all of the ladies within hearing breathed a collective sigh at his romantic declaration. Brodick and Ian, meanwhile, bristled. Ramsey's reputation would, no doubt, suffer after this. The fact that he was their friend would not serve their own reputations either.

When Father Laggan turned again to Bridgid and repeated his questions, she swallowed convulsively. She met Ramsey's eyes and they shown with brilliance and warmth above his breathtaking smile. She shook tremendously as she sought the words.

"I will," she finally uttered in a bare whisper. Ramsey squeezed her hands gently while Father Laggan, who had been succeeding in his façade of passive restraint throughout the ceremony, exhaled dramatically while wiping his brow. The hard part was over.

The remaining ceremony was a blur as a plaid was wrapped around Ramsey and Bridgid's hands and they were blessed. When they were finally announced as man and wife, Ramsey swept Bridgid into his arms and kissed her, no affectations of restraint, in front of their audience. Bridgid's face burned when she finally pulled away from him and they walked down the aisle to cheers and clapping.

Outside the chapel, underneath the newly constructed arch that stood proudly bedecked with flowers, Ramsey announced his bride to his clan.

"Lady Sinclair."

Then he swept her into another heady embrace to more cheers.

The wedding celebrations both inside and outside the keep were raucous affairs. Wine and ale flowed easily. Steaming trenchers and bursting plates lined the tables with fish and venison, rabbit and duck, mixed assortments of bread, cheeses, and sweet meats. The great hall had never looked so grand newly cleaned and dressed in its finery. When musicians began to play, lairds and ladies and smiths and cotters alike put down their goblets and danced. And when the sun fell below the horizon, torches were lit so that the party could continue well into the evening.

Ramsey held onto Bridgid for most of the celebration. First in a receiving line where they accepted the well wishes of their friends and family; then seated at table his arm rested on hers as they talked and laughed and ate and drank with Laird and Lady Buchanan and Laird and Lady Maitland. Ramsey seemed too solicitous of Bridgid and ever watchful of her goblet, signaling for it to be filled and refilled and always making sure that she had something to eat.

For Bridgid, the day seemed to go by in a blur. All of her nerves and emotions, all of the people and celebrations, Ramsey ever-present, his touch always-lingering. At times they collided to warm her all over. She reached for her cheeks and felt them burning. At times she felt faint and sought a bench or a chair. Ramsey was always studying her, attending to her, smiling. She wondered if he thought about the night to come. She certainly did, at times worried, at times excited. Then some new felicitation or joke would distract her.

When finally she found some privacy as she danced with Ramsey, she had to ask what had been on her mind since the ceremony.

"Did you mean it, Ramsey?"

"Mean what, my love?"

He held her so close as they swayed to the music, his large hands caressing her shoulder and waist strangely made her body tingle.

"What you said today with your vows."

"Oh, that. Someone told me to say that. A woman, I think. You know her, I'm quite sure."

"I knew it," she said in frustration, lightly punching his shoulder. "You didn't mean any of it."

"Hmm, let's see. What part did I mean?" He pretended to search his mind for the answer, fighting the smile etched on his face. Bridgid grew increasingly sullen.

"I think, my lady, you would be satisfied to learn that I meant every word."

"Did you, in all truth?"

"In all truth," he vowed with a hand in the air as if pledging to it.

She studied his face, then, smiling in return.

"Would that I could trust you," she said. "Do you now admit to being devious in your _vague_ explanations to the priest thus far?"

His smile, then, became a warm caress brimming in his eyes.

"We did, in fact, sleep together on our return from England. That you felt in no ways compromised was hard for me to confess to the man. After all, you seemed offended at the arrangements night after night. You did, in truth, paint yourself in a less than flattering light as a result of it. I thought merely to allay your concerns on the matter. Marriage, it seemed, was the only option. You are now once again and always right in the eyes of God. I would think my concern for your reputation and care of your soul commendable attributes."

"Certainly, my laird, they are. But, we both know you lied to a man of God—"

"I did not lie," he cut in.

"—to see me as your wife now."

"I admit only to being less than forthcoming with pertinent facts. The priest did not seek further explanation. Thus, I did not supply it. If you would but accompany me to our room," he leaned in whispering, his warm breath and lips wet in her ear, "we could lay these niggling facts and your obvious concerns to rest."

For the briefest moment she did not move, did not want to pull away from him. They barely moved to the music. His hand held the back of her head as he pressed it into his neck. His lips rested near her ear. His other hand was around her waist, pressing her body into his. She felt his nearness hard and unrelenting and knew that as Ramsey offered, they would soon be alone together in his room, in _their_ room, she corrected herself.

When she finally pressed her hands to his chest to create some space between them, she smiled up at him sheepishly and gulped in fresh air, certain that a burning red colored her face. She was thinking what he was thinking and could not bring herself to accept his offer, yet.

So they danced. And, when the song ended they drank some more and talked awhile longer with friends, Ramsey's arm always around her waist, his nearness and his smell burned into her. Then, Gillian begged him to excuse them, pulling her friend behind her.

"Are you nervous," Gillian asked Bridgid as they entered the great hall and climbed the stairs.

"If I said 'no' you would know me to be lying," Bridgid returned.

"You must know what to expect. After all, you have a mother to care for you and to tell you," Gillian hesitated, searching for the right words, "the basics."

"I guess. And, she has."

"Well, then. You are armed with more certain knowledge of the wedding night than I was. You will be well served by that."

"I guess." But, Bridgid was not more forthcoming, a trait Gillian had come to value. She saw true honesty in her trepidations.

"I cannot put into words what you seek," Gillian said. "No one can, not even Ramsey. If you trust him and his touch, it will be okay. In the morning, what you had feared will seem silly, trite."

They stood outside of Ramsey's chamber; the door was ajar.

"Would you like me to come in with you? Do you need any help?"

Bridgid scanned the room and peered back at her friend, eliciting a nervous chuckle.

"No. I think I can handle it from here," Bridgid assured her in less than certain terms. "You go along; find your husband. Thank you for all of your help today. I would not have made it to the chapel without you and Judith."

"'Tis a certainty, that. And, don't you forget it when you are blissfully happy in your married state. 'Twould not be a hardship whatsoever to remind you of it at every turn."

With that, Gillian hugged Bridgid to her fiercely and kissed her cheek. "Go on, now." She pushed Bridgid into the grand chamber. "He'll be along shortly."


	9. Chapter 9

When Bridgid entered the room and pulled the door closed behind her, the door latched with a heavy finality. She had seen the chamber before in passing, was even in it chasing out Ramsey's bedfellow. She thought back on that night, on the embarrassment of him catching her in here, on him telling her of his plans with Marion. She shuttered to think of how many lovers he had had.

She scanned the room. On the massive bed the covers had been pulled back and her best sleeping gown and robe were set out. Bedside candles and candles on the mantle burned, casting a soft, dancing glow in the room. A small fire crackled in the hearth. A decanter of wine and two goblets sat lazily on a small table near it. Stealth servants had obviously come and gone.

She crossed to the bed and picked up her gown, wondering if she had time to don it before Ramsey came. After a moment of indecision, she quickly shed her clothing and put on the gown and robe. Then she removed the flowers and pins from her hair and ran her fingers through it, combing out the heavy golden waves.

She approached the fire, drawn to the heat; though she was not chilled, it served to relax her. Resting her forehead on the mantle, she let her apprehension drain into the wood and stone. Without thinking, she rolled her shoulders in slow, concentric circles, letting the movement ease away the rest of her tension. After some moments doing this, she thought herself almost calm. Almost.

When she heard the door latch it seemed distant in her ear as if through a long tunnel. She lifted her head from the mantle now keenly aware of his presence.

Ramsey approached her on silent tread. Behind her now, a breath of space separating them, he placed his hands on her wrists and slowly brought them up her arms, stepping into her, smelling her hair. He breathed a barely audible, "hi." He felt the tension in her arms and massaged her shoulders while he dipped his head to the side of her neck. He quickly moved her hair and placed a light kiss where her neck met her shoulder. Then he parted his lips and kissed her again, tasting her lightly. She swallowed nervously.

Ramsey sensed her obvious apprehension and stepped back, moving to the table and filling the goblets.

"Wine," he asked, not really asking, as he handed her a goblet.

Bridgid cracked a nervous smile as she gladly accepted the goblet and quickly downed some. She stared into the fire again, trying to calm her fears. Yet, her nerves were battling a strange warm stirring within her body and she found herself not entirely afraid. Ramsey moved to stand directly beside her. Their arms touched but nothing more. He wanted to be near her to allow her to get used to his presence.

They stood together. It seemed an interminable length for them both. Ramsey thought to cool his ardor for her but the picture that he saw when he entered the room and the smell and feel of her when he drew near only made him want her more. The time seemed to lengthen Bridgid's fears and she turned to face him just as he turned to face her.

He caressed her cheek, smiling at her warmly. "You needn't fear me."

"I do not," she replied too quickly, barely swallowing the lie as her pulse throbbed in her throat. "'Tis merely the uncertainty."

Ramsey took her goblet and placed it along with his own back on the table.

"Do you know what is about to happen," he asked.

"More or less," she replied.

"Which is it? More or less?"

Her answer, what answer there was, caught in her throat. He stared at her, then drew his hands to her shoulders removing her robe. She glanced at her robe crumpled on the floor.

"You looked warm," he said in response to her unasked question.

Her gown was merely a thin veil hugging all of her curves. He leaned into her, rubbing his body lightly against hers. He trailed his knuckles along her cheek and jaw line, rubbed his thumb along her lower lip. Then he kissed her, playing with her lips gently, barely touching them, almost chastely. He moved to the corners, then on to the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, pecking lightly, whisper-soft.

When he returned to her lips, he opened his, tasting the sweet wine on hers, while his hands were slowly massaging her back through the gown, up and down the length of her spine, kneading her taut muscles.

Bridgid felt a warm heaviness growing in her belly, a strange and stirring pressure that was both heavy and tight between her legs. His touch was magical, comforting; his lips were so inviting. The feeling began to chase away her nervousness. She met his kisses with her own, timid at first, then growing bolder as she opened her mouth and met his tongue with hers. They mated lazily, tracing languid lines inside lips and plunging inside to taste and touch.

Ramsey felt her tensions easing and began to draw the hem of her gown up her legs. Distracted, Bridgid did not notice her gown until it was at her waist. Her hands reached for his to push her gown back down.

"Relax," he whispered into her mouth, then just as quickly returned to kissing her.

She wrenched her lips away from his. "Can't I keep it on?"

"No," was all he said, as he continued to lift her gown, rubbing her silky soft skin as he drew it up.

He knew her nerves to be stretched taut again and he quickly stepped back from her to pull the gown over her head to discard it and just as quickly pulled her body back to him so that he could resume kissing her, a sensation he knew she loved and found comfort in.

He returned to plying her with kisses as he traced his fingertips along her back and her pert round buttocks, following the delicate lines there. He wanted desperately to be able to look at her body, to study it, but he knew that in stepping away and doing so now, she would see the lust in his eyes, glimpse the thoughts in his head and she would surely flee. Soon, he assured himself. He would look at his leisure very soon and for as long as he wanted. She was his, after all.

Her nervousness at being so exposed was fading rapidly, giving over to the burning warmth that grew between her thighs. It felt…wonderful. It was confusing, too, as she had been told that lovemaking was painful. But, all of the sensations she felt were…too good and she quickly discarded the notion of pain as a warning mothers must give against promiscuity.

Ramsey felt his arousal painfully. He was growing desperate to be inside of her. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. She tried to quickly slip under the covers to shield herself from his gaze, but he stopped her.

"No. Let me look at you."

He stood for a moment, taking in her exquisite form. Her breasts were larger, rounder, and firmer than he could have imagined. Her waist was incredibly small. Her belly was smooth and tight. He stared briefly at the golden curls that shielded her virginity then led his eyes to trail down her long legs. Her long, curly hair fanned out upon his pillows, just as he had imagined it would, framing a face and a body that, in all of his dreams he could never imagine, was so perfectly formed.

His eyes met hers. They seemed like pools of blue, nervous and unsure. He moved quickly to shed his own clothing, first undraping the plaid from his shoulder, then swiftly removing his shirt. With no hesitation he unpinned his plaid and let it drop.

Bridgid studied his body as he shed his clothes. His chest was strong, firmly muscled leading to a lean waist. The lightest layer of dark hair covered his torso, trailing to a line that led to…Her eyes lowered to his arousal and just as quickly looked away. Perhaps this _would_ hurt. She could not imagine how they would fit together, though she knew that they should. She looked, then, at his long legs, muscular and hard. The man did not appear to have an ounce of fat on him, no softness anywhere.

He knelt, then, on the bed and she instantly began scooting toward the far end of the bed, away from him. He caught an arm and stayed her. He wanted to climb on top of her, lay between her legs where he had been dreaming of being for days now. But, he had only to look at her to know she was not ready. Instead, he lay beside her propped on an elbow, resting his head in his hand.

He studied her for a moment, wanting to taste and touch her everywhere. Then he began by trailing his fingers lightly down her throat, tracing them along her collarbone. She swallowed again nervously. He caught her eyes with his, saw her fear and uncertainty, and leaned into her, nuzzling into her ear.

"Relax, sweet."

Then he followed the path his fingers had taken with his mouth, kissing and tasting his way down her throat. His fingers were blazing a new trail around her breasts, circling, cupping, plying her nipples until they became hard peaks.

Bridgid's uncertainty was slowly giving way to a delicious feeling of warmth and desire. She didn't quite know what was happening in her body, did not know what to expect next, but knew that she wanted more of it, more of him touching and tasting. And when his mouth moved lower to taste a nipple, she gasped. Ramsey stopped momentarily to look up at her. Her eyes were closed and they were running back and forth under heavy lids. Her body shook ever so subtly while moans escaped her lips. He smiled as he began to lick and suck, laving her nipple. She felt like she was coming out of her skin. The feeling was too delicious.

When he moved to taste her other nipple his hand moved lower, tracing a line down her navel, moving in a languid circle around her belly button, then moving lower. When his fingers moved inside of the curls at her sex, she tensed again, grabbing his hand with one of hers and trying to pull it away. But, his hand would not be moved. He returned to nuzzle into her ear.

"Relax, my love. I assure you, you will like it."

He claimed her mouth again and made love to her with his tongue while his fingers found her moist heat, plunging in and out as she moaned.

She forgot to fight him when he began playing with the nub at the very center of her desire. An intense pressure and heaviness flooded into her there and she grabbed the sheets with her hands to steady herself. She moaned without thinking, rocking her pelvis to meet his fingers. Something kept building and building and she was heedless to stop it. Until an incredible bursting like a thousand hot flames reverberated throughout her body and she cried out his name, not knowing what she wanted or needed.

Pleased that she had reached her first climax, he quickly moved to lie on top of her, spreading her thighs with his legs, and lowering himself down so that the tip of his arousal met the moist lips of her sex. He grit his teeth as he grabbed her hips, preparing to thrust inside of her. He knew this would hurt her but also knew there was no avoiding it.

In one swift movement he penetrated her, tearing the shield that was her virginity. She cried out in pain. The ecstasy she had been feeling was shattered in an instant. She tried desperately to scoot away from him, to get him to release her. He saw the tears spilling from her eyes.

"Ramsey, you are hurting me." She pushed against him.

"Shh, I know, baby. I'm sorry. 'Tis only this first time. I promise. Just lay still and the pain will ease."

In truth, he needed her to lay still. When she moved, even a little bit, it only made him want to withdraw and plunge back into her again. But, he could not, he would not until she grew accustomed to feeling him inside of her.

He kissed away the tears falling down her cheeks and whispered to her that it would feel better soon. And even as he was saying it she felt it to be true. The painful throbbing had begun to dissipate. He found her lips again and kissed her until she was thoroughly distracted.

"Is it any better, love?"

"Yes," she squeaked out. "It is not so very bad any more."

And, without telling her, he began to move. He slowly withdrew and then thrust inside of her again. She gasped, but it did not sound as strained.

"Am I hurting you?" He searched her eyes for the truth.

"Not so very much," she returned with an embarrassed smile.

Then he smiled, kissed her on the tip of her nose and found her lips again. He made love to her with his tongue as he made love to her with his arousal, plunging in and withdrawing. She was so incredibly tight, so warm and wet. Her tight sheath hugged him as he thrust in over and over again. It felt so good to be inside of her, to be a part of her, better even than he dreamed it would be. As he drove towards his climax he could feel her insides quivering, humming, vibrating with its own building need.

"Put your arms around me," he said as he wrenched his lips away from her. "And, pick up your legs. Put them around me, too."

She did as he bid without even thinking. She was no longer embarrassed, no longer nervous. He was her husband. This was good, right.

As soon as she lifted her legs, he was able to plunge inside of her even further and he groaned in hot ecstasy as he spilled his seed inside of her. She gasped again, feeling the same white-hot flames cascading throughout her body.

Ramsey collapsed on top of her. He felt spent emotionally and physically. From the moment he had decided she would be his she had thwarted him at every turn. He had never worked so hard to woo a woman, never wanted a woman more than he wanted her. Now, he lay in confused awe. He had never experienced that kind of a climax with a woman. He had always assumed that sex required a certain measure of knowledge to reach its peak of pleasure. But now he knew that it had nothing to do with that. After all, his little Bridgid had none. Her body's innocent response to him was electric. He could not believe that she was his wife. He wanted to savor the feeling, wanted to savor her.

Bridgid braced herself to hold Ramsey's weight. He lay atop her as they both sought calming breaths. She had no idea what to expect, had no idea if this was typical, had no idea if she was good, had no idea if she had pleased him. She had a vague notion that he was good. And knew with a certainty that he had pleased her. She could not believe that he was her husband. She wanted to savor the feeling, wanted to savor him.

Yet his weight grew heavy on her. She moved her hands to his shoulders and tried to gingerly nudge him off.

He propped himself up and looked down at her, smiling.

"Sorry."

He finally withdrew from her and slid to her side. He collapsed again, this time on a pillow but he left a knee wedged between her legs and he roped an arm around her waist, holding on to her tightly. He did not want to stop touching her, did not want to let her go.

She assumed it was typical to compliment one's spouse after lovemaking and Ramsey seemed distracted or reluctant, so she volunteered.

"That was nice."

Ramsey grunted, trying to swallow a laugh. "I assure you, that was much better than nice," he supplied.

"Well, since I had nothing whatsoever to compare it to, I assumed 'nice' was fair."

"Of course," he said, as he turned slightly to meet her eyes. "And, it was your first time. You should never experience pain again."

"That is good to know."

"I shall try my utmost to give you time to heal, to be gentle until the tenderness fades. But, you will have to forgive me if I find it hard to keep my hands off you," he said, as he squeezed her to him. "You are too beautiful, wife, the very picture of every man's fantasy."

She smiled at that. It was certainly nice to hear.

"In fact," he continued, "if I continue touching you, I may not be able to help myself from showing you dozens of others ways to make love. Would you be appalled?"

"Dozens?"

"I don't know the exact count but many, many, many."

"And will it be nice?"

"Much better than nice."

"Then I don't know that I would be appalled, not with you, never with you."

He smiled at that. It was certainly nice to hear. Then he heard Bridgid yawn and knew it would not be long before she nodded off to sleep. Before she did, he had one more thing to say.

"You know, I heard somewhere that without love, this kind of passion can be fleeting."

He let her words returned back to her hang in the air between them.

She flinched, knowing she had said that and wondered where he was going with it.

"Yes," she finally said, "I had heard that somewhere, too."

"What do you think?"

"About love or passion?"

"Both."

"I, I..I don't know. I'm not sure."

"Come now. I think you are."

"And what of you?

For a brief moment he considered how to answer. "Do you know me well enough to admit that I would never go back on my word to anyone, whether it be the clan, your father, my father, you?"

"Yes. I suppose that is true."

"And would you concede that I would never force you to marry if it were not a love match in every way?"

She could not concede. She was not sure that he loved her.

"What are you saying?"

"I should think it clear by now." He stared into her eyes, warm, blue pools, waiting. "I love you, Bridgid." And, before she could move to protest, he captured her mouth with his, sealing it for the rest of the night.

THE END


End file.
